Spellfire n-8

by Jessica Andersen

So she let herself be snuggled back against his side, but poked him in the ribs. “You’re full of orders this morning, mister. Okay, what do you want me to do then?”

  “Pretty much just lie there,” he said with a chuckle in his voice as he rolled partway atop her, pinning her with his warm, sleepy weight.

  “Oh, that’s charming. Really.” But she arched beneath him, looped her legs around his hips, and ran her feet up the backs of his thighs while he settled against her, hard and ready for action. Her blood heated, then burned, because she was ready for him, too. More than ready. And where they had kept things to the darkness this past week, with no time for daylight trysts and her slipping away well before the dawn, now they could see each other in the morning light. It glowed in the air, haloing him with sparks of red, green and gold. His magic. Hers. Gods.

  The solstice was amping their powers already. But would it be enough?

  He kissed her deeply, rocking his hips against her so his hard flesh slid against the wet, wanting place between her legs. Moaning his name, she tried to set aside the fear, focusing instead on the man in her arms, the heat they made together, and the way her magic intertwined with his, making the air around them come alive.

  She kissed him, stroked him, and then curled around him and angled her body so he could slide into her, putting him exactly where they both wanted him to be. A sexy groan rumbled in his chest and he began the thrust, but then he stopped with just the tip of his thick cock inside her.

  Her eyes came open, and she found him braced over her, looking down at her. Expression tender, he stroked her cheek, brushing a few strands away from her forehead. “I’m glad you stayed. There’s nobody else I would want to wake up next to on a day like today. Only you.”

  Throat tightening, she said, “I needed this. I needed you.” Then she reached up, tugged him down, and poured herself into a kiss. Groaning, he shifted and slid all the way into her, filling her, stretching her and sending pleasure caroming through her. And for the next few minutes, he kissed her, held her, moved against her, stripped her down to need and sensation and then gave her more, thrusting hard and sure until her entire universe coalesced to the feel of his body inside hers, and the hum of magic that surrounded them.

  Spurred by the sudden, sharp desperation of knowing that this might be it, this might be their last time together, she surged up beneath him, twisting up and over to reverse their positions. As she rose above him, his hands clamped on her hips and his eyes brightened with heat and lust, and an edge of Hell, yeah. Bring it on, baby.

  Blood racing, she leaned in to kiss him, letting her hips rise up as she did, so she slid up along his thick cock, until only the head was inside her. He groaned and tightened his grip, then groaned again when she slid back down. And again.

  As the magic sped through her veins, she set a hard, fast rhythm. Her breath stuttered and then caught when she moved against him, around him, reveling in the slap and slide of flesh, but also the way his eyes stayed on hers, the way their powers mingled in the air surrounding them. “Yes,” she whispered, angling her hips to ride him just the way she wanted, with his hard flesh rubbing her center exactly right. “There. Yes.”

  “Hell, yeah, there,” he grated, and shifted beneath her, surging up as she came down, the two of them racing together to the peak. She got there first, coiling and crying out as the orgasm gripped her tightly. It went on and on, wrung out by his thrusts and the glorious friction they made together as he hammered toward his own release and then came, gripping her hips and groaning as he thrust up into her again and again, prolonging the pleasure.

  She stayed over him for a moment, shaking with the aftershocks of her own orgasm. Then she curled forward to press her cheek against his as the intense sensations faded away, leaving magic thrumming in their wake.

  After a moment, he shifted, rearranging them so they were cuddled together with her face in his shoulder and her thigh thrown across his, almost exactly the way she had awakened. She kissed his stubbled jaw and inhaled the scent of their lovemaking, trying to imprint it on her senses. Trying not to let everything feel desperate and final.

  He tightened his arms around her, his voice very serious when he said, “Myr, I want to tell you—”

  “Not now,” she interrupted, lifting a hand to cover his mouth. Her heart bumped, because she knew what he wanted to say, knew that she wanted to say it back. “We’ll say it later. After.”

  His eyes darkened, but after a moment, he nodded. Then he reached up, caught her wrist, and pressed a kiss to her palm. “Are you sure?”

  “No. But it’ll give us something to look forward to, something to fight for.”

  “I’ll always fight for you.” It was low, intense, and carried the force of a vow. “Always.”

  Her throat closed, so all she could get out was, “Same goes.” Then, because she knew if she didn’t leave now, she would still be there in an hour when they were due to meet up with Dez, she eased away from him. “I’m going to go shower and change. It just seems wrong to show up for battle wearing yesterday’s clothes. Talk about a cosmic walk of shame.”

  “I’ll see you at the rendezvous?”

  She swallowed hard at the thought that this could be the last muster, the last group teleport. “You bet.”

  As she headed out of the cottage, she found herself memorizing the familiar rooms, the furniture, the memories of the good times they’d had there. Outside, she stared for a moment at the flower boxes she’d installed a few months after moving in with him. They held only dirt and a few dried leaves now, and the sight brought a pang.

  You’ll be back, she told herself, and did her best to believe it as she headed down the path to the main mansion. Still, though, she couldn’t stop herself from turning for one last look.

  She froze at the sight of Red-Boar gliding noiselessly up the steps to Rabbit’s cottage. As she sucked in a quick breath of surprise, he took a quick look around and—not noticing her in the shadows of the farthest cottage—slipped through the door without knocking.

  Oh, that wasn’t good. Not good at all.

  Flashing on an image of Rabbit being surprised awake by his crazy-ass father, Myr didn’t hesitate. She headed back the way she had come, moving fast and staying out of view as she heard the kitchen door shut. Don’t freak, she told herself. He’s probably just going to try and talk him out of renouncing the kohan.

  Heart thudding, she eased up to the side of Rabbit’s cottage, near where the kitchen window was cracked to let in some fresh air. She heard Red-Boar’s voice loud and clear, suggesting he hadn’t gotten beyond the kitchen.

  “I talked to Dez,” the old mage said, sounding more disgusted than usual.

  “And?” Rabbit’s question was followed by the clink of a glass on the kitchen counter, then the glug of some milk or juice or something.

  Okay, Myr thought. Red-Boar hadn’t gone after Rabbit in his bed or anything else particularly psycho-stalkerish, despite the robe and weird behavior. They were just talking. Which meant she was eavesdropping, which wasn’t cool.

  She eased away, intending to slink into the shadows behind the next cottage over and head back to the mansion. But then Red-Boar said, “He refuses to do the right thing. So I’m going to do it for him.”

  Myr’s blood iced. What!?

  She wanted to jump up and shout the question, along with “the hell” and “do you think you’re doing?” Instead, with a sick mix of dread and guilt churning in her gut, she hit the recorder on her comm device, got it up as close to the window as she could, and peeked around the corner, knowing she would be hidden by the half-open blinds and the cottage shadow at her back.

  She could just see the two of them, sitting at the table with glasses of OJ in front of them like it was a breakfast meeting. Since when did Rabbit and Red-Boar have breakfast together, or even freaking juice?

  Rabbit eyed his father with a hard, steady gaze. “You know the deal.”

  The breath froze in Myr’s lungs.
What was he up to?

  Red-Boar nodded. “Dez hasn’t left me any choice.” He held out his ceremonial knife. “Do it.”

  “Fine.” Rabbit knocked back his juice, set the glass on the kitchen table and took his father’s knife. His expression didn’t change as he sliced his palms and let the blood fall on the table. Then, sounding flat, like he’d rehearsed the words over and over again his head, he said, “I swear that if you use the last Boar Oath to countermand the two orders you’ve already put on me, then I will refuse the false gods today.”

  “No!” Myr whispered soundlessly as she felt the magic of the blood oath ripple in the air.

  Red-Boar rose and loomed over his son for a second, then said, “Fuck it. By the Boar Oath, this is my third command: I order you to disregard the two prior orders.”

  This time the ripples were stronger, the magic deeper and darker. Myr pressed the back of her hand to her mouth to stifle her gasp, and then, when she heard Red-Boar’s footsteps moving in her direction, ducked and scuttled away, around the corner of the next cottage over. She flattened herself up against the siding as there was another low murmur of conversation, then the sound of the kitchen door, and footsteps heading away. One set. Risking a glimpse, she confirmed that Red-Boar was stumping off, alone. Rabbit had stayed behind.

  Rabbit . . . who was no longer sworn to obey his king or keep from harming his teammates.

  Rabbit . . . who hadn’t told her he’d made a deal with his father. And not one Dez would approve of.

  “Gods.” She turned back to slide down the wall and sit on the ground while her head spun. “Oh, holy shit. What’s going on here?” And, more, what was she supposed to do about it?

  Realizing that her recorder was still going, she clicked it off. Somehow knowing she had actual evidence made it worse, because logic, her instincts and just about every other piece of her sane and reasonable mind said she should take it straight to Dez.

  Instead, pushing back upright on shaky legs, she headed for the cottage, hoping to hell she wasn’t about to make the biggest mistake of her life. She had to, though; she just had to. This was Rabbit, after all.

  * * *

  Rabbit held himself stiff and still until he couldn’t hear his old man anymore, couldn’t sense the skin-crawl of Red-Boar’s presence. Then he took a huge, gaping breath.

  Oh, shit. He was free. Not just of the Boar Oath, but from the threat of his old man sabotaging up the renunciation ceremony. More, he had managed to keep the vault intact while doing it. By the skin of his fucking teeth, granted—he’d missed his a.m. mental mortaring session, and the old man without fail dialed in to his inner Pissed-off Teenager. Add in the oh-holy-shit magic of the doomsday solstice, and he was seriously on the fucking edge.

  He had managed it though. He’d held it together, and he’d maneuvered Red-Boar until the bastard had wound up exactly where he’d wanted him.

  He had finally done something right.

  “Thank Christ.” He rose, not quite steady, and rinsed the blood off his healed palms. The water was cool and somehow very real, making him conscious of the press of his boots into the floor, and the possibility that none of it would be around tomorrow if he didn’t keep doing things right. Sticking his head under the faucet, he took a drink and splashed his face. Then, knowing he had just enough time to hit the spare room and do some “ommmm”-ing, he straightened, finger-combing his hair back with the moisture, and—

  His stomach dive-bombed at the sight of Myr standing in the doorway. Not just because his control was seriously shaky, but because her expression left no doubt that she had heard him and his old man.

  She stepped into the kitchen and slammed the door. “Give me one reason not to tell the king what I just saw. And make it good.”

  Fuck me. “Dez already knows.”

  “He . . .” She leaned back against the door, expression going from confrontational to hurt, confused. “Did he order you to keep your mouth shut?”

  “The two of us were the only ones who knew. And now you.” Which they both knew wasn’t the same thing. He could’ve told her, but he hadn’t.

  “And he approved of you breaking the Boar Oath? Why?”

  “I needed to trick Red-Boar into burning the last of the three orders before we got to Coatepec Mountain, or else I knew he would use it to make me defy Dez, or worse.” He paused. “He can’t let go of his gods, and I think it’s making him crazier than he started.”

  “But you swore you’d stick with the sky gods. How is that not going against Dez?”

  “I swore that I would refuse the false gods. As far as I’m concerned, the sky gods are the false ones, not Bastet, Osiris and the others.”

  “You . . . damn. You’re right. Okay. Okay, yeah. I get it. But . . . shit, that was risky.”

  “The wording was Dez’s idea.” But Rabbit was the one who’d pulled it off, using his old man’s fanaticism against him. If it hadn’t been for the sharp hurt in her eyes, he would’ve been feeling pretty damn proud of himself. As it was, he wished to hell he’d just told her. So much for him getting everything right this time.

  He just hoped this wasn’t as bad as it felt. Not when just a half hour ago they’d been in bed together, almost talking about love, about the future.

  “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

  Because he’s already threatened you. Because I was afraid you would get involved, get in trouble. Because I didn’t want you looking at him in full-on crazy mode and thinking that I have the same potential. “He’s a mind-bender. I didn’t want him picking up anything from you.” He paused. “I still don’t. Promise me you’ll stay away from him.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “I swear I’ll watch out for him.”

  Which just went to show that he wasn’t the only one who could twist a vow to suit himself. Frustration sparked, though he wasn’t sure if it was coming from him or the magic that hung thick in the air between them. “I’m just trying to keep you safe, Myr. If anything happens to you—” He broke off, not wanting to imagine his world without her in it . . . or there being no world at all.

  “I feel the same way,” she said softly. “But, Rabbit, you’re not giving me enough credit.”

  “It’s not you who I don’t trust, Myr. It’s him.” And that was the gods’ honest truth.

  After a moment, she nodded. “Okay. Given the history between the two of you, I guess I can accept that. I don’t like it, but I can accept it.” She paused, then fixed him with a look. “Is there anything else you’re not telling me? Anything else that Dez knows that I don’t?”

  Yes. No. Shit. He hesitated, then said, “I’ve had a couple of dreams. They’re like the vision we shared, with me in the old king’s head, you as the queen, and the two of us ready to open the intersection beneath Chichén Itzá.” When she drew back, stung, he added, “There wasn’t anything new in them, really.”

  “Dez knows? Of course he knows,” she said, more to herself than to him. “That was why he asked me about my dreams.” Twin spots of color rode high on her cheekbones. “Damn it, Rabbit. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “It wasn’t intentional. It was just that what little time we’ve had together this past week, I’ve wanted it to be just us. Not the war, not even the magic. Just us.” That, and he hadn’t wanted her worrying that he was hearing voices again, and thinking back to what had happened before. Hell, he hadn’t wanted to think about it himself. She didn’t look worried, though. More like she wanted to drop him in the nearest cenote. “You’re mad.”

  “I’m . . .” She blew out a soft breath. “I don’t know what I am. Part of me says that I’m the one who said we shouldn’t go back to the way things were between us, which means I don’t get to get pissed that you didn’t tell me everything that’s going on in your life. We’re just sleeping together, right?”

  “Ah, baby—”

  She held up a hand. “I’m not finished. Because here’s the thing—there’s another part of me that says the last time
you hid things from me, it was a really, really bad sign. I’m trying not to worry that the same sort of thing is going on here.” Her eyes filled suddenly; her voice broke. “Tell me it’s not happening again.”

  “Gods, no!” He pulled her into his arms and held on to her while she gave a token protest. “I promise. Any oath you want, any sacrifice. Phee is gone. Anntah’s gone. It’s just me, I swear.” Which was true. And it would be good enough, as long as he kept his shit together.

  She held herself stiff against him for a moment, then softened on a sigh. “I know. Damn it, I know.” Her arms came around him. “I know you’re not that guy anymore, and it’s not fair for me to keep going back there when we’re supposed to be moving forward.”

  “Shh.” He wrapped himself around her. “I don’t blame you. I should’ve said something.” When her body shook with a sob, he stroked her nape, her back, any part of her he could reach.

  She burrowed into him, her breath hot on his throat. “I just . . . gods, I’m a mess. I’m scared, and I don’t want to be scared.”

  “It’s all going to be okay,” he said into her hair, though they both knew those were empty words. He tightened his grip on her, suddenly all too aware that the next time they saw each other, it would be time to ’port to Coatepec Mountain, signaling the beginning of the end. “Promise me you’ll take care of yourself.” She wouldn’t be beside him, but she would still be on the frontlines. He hated knowing that, even though he respected it. But, gods, he needed to believe she was going to be okay.

  It terrified him how much he needed that, needed her.

  She pulled away to look up at him. “Only if you’ll promise me the same thing.”

  “You’ve got it,” he said, and kissed her before she could make him swear it in blood. The kiss was deep, warm and wet, with a sharp edge that he didn’t let himself think was good-bye. And after a moment, they drew apart, knowing there wasn’t enough time for more.

  She glanced at her wristband. “We’re down to a half hour.”

  “Better hurry if you want that shower.” And he needed all the time he could get to lock his head down tight.